


The Kuragins, Dolokhov, and the Great Next Generation of 1812

by earsXfeet6669



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Anatole is still dead though, F/M, Hélène lives AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earsXfeet6669/pseuds/earsXfeet6669
Summary: The next generation of Kuragin children discover a dark secret about their past that puts them in imminent danger.
Relationships: Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina, Bill Clinton/Hillary Clinton, Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin, Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Incestia Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way Kuragina was brushing her long golden blonde hair when she heard the knock on the a Kuragin mansion’s front door. Her beautiful green-and-communism-colored orbs shone with excitement, surprise and did I mention beauty? She was almost as good-looking as her parents. Almost. 

She jumped up from her seat and flew down the hall, yelling for her brother. “Foot! Foot, he’s here!” 

The aforementioned Foot stuck his head out of the door of his room, looking disheveled. Foot had, most unfortunately, not inherited the good looks of either of his parents. No one would have said there was an unpleasant feature between them, but Foot’s genetics had managed to isolate every recessive ugly trait the Kuragin family possessed and give them all to him. Despite that, Incestia loved him. Not like that, though. Despite her name and their parents’ identities, their bond was strictly platonic. 

“What?” Foot said sharply. 

“He’s here,” Incestia said impatiently, hopping from one foot to the other (foot the noun. She wasn’t hopping on her brother’s head). 

Foot’s eyes narrowed (Foot the human, not Incestia’s body part). “Who’s he?” 

“Oh come on. You know. Mother hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks at her little parties. I think she wants to stir up talk about it, actually.” 

“Oh. Him,” Foot said, understanding dawning on his face. 

“Yes,” Incestia said. “Come on! He’ll be annoyed if we’re late.” 

“Gimme a sec,” Foot said, disappearing back into his room and shutting the door in his sister’s face. She huffed angrily. She could never stand being ignored. 

The door opened again a moment later, and Foot was standing there. He looked the same, but from the way his dark blond hair was swept Incestia could tell he’d tried to brush it. It hadn’t worked. Nothing ever did.

“Come on,” she exclaimed, grabbing her brother’s hand in a completely chaste and platonic way and running down the stairs with him just behind her. They met their mother in the hallway just before the front door. 

“Ah, children,” Princess Hélène Vasilyevna Kuragina said imperiously, sweeping toward them. “Good.” She reached out and patted Foot’s hair. 

“It’s no use, Mother,” he said tiredly. “My hair is a lost cause.” 

“Mmm.” She stood back and looked at him for a second. Incestia was impressed that he held her gaze. She loved her mother, but she was quite intimidating at times. Without another word, her mother turned away and opened the door. Fedya Dolokhov walked through it into the Kuragin house. 

“Uncle Dolokhov!” Incestia yelled, leaping at him. He bent down to hug her, looking equal parts amused and confused. 

“Remind me again why I’m their uncle?” He said, speaking over Incestia’s head to Hélène, who shrugged. 

“If it weren’t for certain awkward situations like my marriage and Anatole’s maleness you probably would have ended up married to one of us at some point, so we just decided to go with that alternate universe timeline.” 

Dolokhov scoffed. “Marry either of you? Not if we were the last people on earth.” 

“For the money,” Hélène clarified. 

Dolokhov’s expression changed. “Oh. Yeah, I definitely would have done that.” 

Incestia had been hugging him this entire time, and he pried her off. “Hey, how old are you now?” he asked. 

“Ten,” she said proudly. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I distinctly remember last time I saw you. You’re eight.” 

She giggled. “I got older!”

“I’m offended,” he said, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t invited to your birthday party. How dare you age without me?” 

“I’m ten too,” Foot said, standing up a little straighter. 

“Hi, Foot,” Dolokhov said, grimacing slightly as he looked at him. “Ugly as ever, huh? You look nothing like your father.” 

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s dead,” Foot glowered at him for a moment, and then it turned into a grin and he came over to hug his “uncle”. Foot and Dolokhov had a bit of a strange relationship. They insisted on insulting each other before showing any affection.

On the whole, Dolokhov was dearly loved by the younger Kuragin generation. He chalked it up to genetics. Their parents were, of course, Hélène and Anato- you know what? I can’t handle this. You know who their parents were; I refuse to say it. 

Moving on. 

“Children,” said Hélène suddenly, “would you be dears and take your...uncle’s…. luggage upstairs for him?” 

This was clearly a sign that a private conversation was to take place between the adults. Obediently, Incestia and Foot ran upstairs with his bags as fast as they could and tiptoed back down the stairs. They were privy to all the good gossip in the Kuragin household, provided they didn’t get caught by their mother. They almost never did; they were very sneaky. They pressed their ears to the crack in the door leading to the hallway. 

“...long trip,” Dolokhov was saying. “I came straight here from the Bisexual Sidekicks Who Aren’t As Familiar With High Society And Help Their More Popular Blond Friends Get With With Married Women They’re Toxically In Love With convention. Nick Carraway says hi, by the way.” 

“Lovely. I’m sorry I missed him.” 

Dolokhov’s voice became more serious, almost hushed. Incestia and Foot leaned in closer to the door in the vain hopes that they could hear better. “Why did you want me to come here, Lena?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said stiffly. 

“Whatever you say, Princess.” 

“Or that.” 

“What should I call you, then?” 

“Don’t speak to me if you can avoid it. I wanted you to come here because I think it’s time for them to know the truth.” 

“Incestia and Foot?” Though they couldn’t see him, they could hear the incredulity in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“But - but we lied to them to protect them.” 

“It’s too late, Fedya. He knows. He’s coming.”

“For the children?” 

“Yes. They have a right to know.” 

“I- I suppose they do. It’s time.” 

The kids only had a few footsteps’ warning before the door opened and, as they had been leaning on it, they fell over each other into the room. 

Hélène’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “Listening at the door? Unacceptable.”

“Sorry, Mother,” Foot muttered after they’d stood up again, hanging his head. 

Incestia said nothing, glaring up at her mother and Dolokhov. “So what’s all this about a secret? About us? What’s the truth, and why do we need to know it?” 

Dolokhov and Hélène exchanged a dark look. She stepped back, and he knelt down beside the children, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. 

“Incestia Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way Kuragina, you and Foot were named after the two weirdest fetishes your father was implied to have,” Dolokhov started. “Except you actually weren’t, because he’s not your father.” 

Incestia knew her head was supposed to reel and the world was supposed to spin under her feet with this new revelation, but all she felt was calm, and maybe a little curious. Her father - alleged father, anyway - had died before she was born. Something about a leg and an amputation. She’d never really cared. 

“Thank God,” Foot said. “The whole incest thing was always a little uncomfortable if I thought about it too hard.” 

“Best to just pretend it doesn’t exist,” Dolokhov said, nodding sagely. “Rather like the author of this fic,” he added, looking up at the ceiling for some reason. 

“What’s a fic?” Incestia asked. 

“Never mind,” Dolokhov said quickly, returning his gaze to the young Kuragins. 

“Hey wait,” Incestia said, her mind catching up with the facts. “In that case, who’s our father? Or were we test tube babies? Or a product of mitosis? Or-” 

“I am,” Dolokhov said with far less emotion than usually came with that pronouncement. Incestia couldn’t do anything more than stare. 

“Don’t say it,” she heard Hélène mutter from behind him. 

“Join me, and together we can rule the gala-” 

“Shut up!” Hélène snapped, kicking him. He winced. “It’s not the time for obscure references.” 

“I’ve been waiting ten years to make that joke, Hélène! It’s my first dad joke!” 

“Are you going to tell them about the president or should I?” 

“Oh,” said Dolokhov, his expression falling. “Right.” He turned back to the children - his children - a grave expression on his face. “Former President Bill Clinton wants you dead.” 

For the second time in that conversation, Incestia knew she should have a much more visceral reaction, but for the life of her she could not recall who Former President Bill Clinton was. 

Foot had his priorities straighter than she did. “Dead?” He yelped, turning pale and shifting his gaze to his mother, who didn’t meet his eyes. 

'Oh yeah,' thought Incestia. 'I should probably be a tiny bit concerned about the whole implied murder thing.'

“I’m sorry,” Dolokhov said, looking distinctly sad. “This is all my fault.” 

“Stop pretending to be sorry,” Hélène snorted. “Literally ten minutes ago you said you’d do it again if you had the chance.” 

“I would,” he admitted. “But I can still be sorry about it. Anyway. Yeah, the whole President thing. A long time ago, in a country far far away called America, they had this President. Kinda like a Tsar, but with less power.” 

“That’s lame,” Incestia said. 

“Not important,” Dolokhov said. “This guy, Bill Clinton, was apparently super hot and all his interns wanted to - oh, wait you’re ten.” He trailed off, thinking. “They wanted to uh, kiss him. A lot.” 

“Gross,” Foot declared. Incestia nodded. 

“Yeah. Gross,” Dolokhov said. “My point is, this one intern (who eventually became a really famous actor for this show called Unnatural that ran forever, but that’s not important right now) was especially infatuated with him. He wrote a whole article about it. His name was Bisha Clinkins.”

Incestia giggled. She knew it was a serious moment, but his name was so ridiculous she couldn’t help herself. 

“Long story short, I was Clinton’s bodyguard and I ended up kinda maybe having an affair with his wife and he was really annoyed about it. Fun fact, that’s the second time I’ve gotten shot for having an affair with my friend’s wife. Maybe I should break that habit.”

For some reason, he winked at Hélène, who muttered, “I wish you would have.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” he insisted. “We were just chillin’ in Cedar Rapids.” 

Hélène rolled her eyes. 

Dolokhov turned back to the kids. “Anyway, he exposed me for that, and in revenge I exposed him for his thing with Bisha Clinkins. Now he hates me and has sworn to eradicate me and my entire family line because I ruined his career or something.” 

“I think that’s a little overdramatic,” Hélène mused. “He’s a white man in a position of power, I don’t think anything could ruin his career.” 

Dolokhov shrugged (shrimp shrugged). “Doesn’t matter. Point is, he’s coming for you guys.” 

“Why did you have to phrase it so creepily?” Foot asked. 

“Because you need to know how serious it is,” Dolokhov said, his voice dropping. 

“Is he coming like right now right now?” Incestia asked. “Cause I want to finish my book before we go on the run.” 

“I don’t-” Dolokhov was cut off by a sharp knock on the door. His expression dropped instantly into one of pure terror. Incestia had never seen anything like it on his face before. Her own stomach clenched in fear. 

“He’s here,” Dolokhov whispered. “Former President Bill Clinton.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teehee it's a surprise <3 enjoy!

Foot held his breath as Dolokhov crossed the room. He grabbed Incestia’s hand in a completely platonic way. Contrary to the opinions of some people, siblings can actually have physical contact in a totally normal, non-sexual way. Incest isn’t genetic. 

Foot didn’t think Incestia was taking this seriously enough. Her eyes were wide with excitement, not fear, and when he glanced at her she flashed him an apprehensive grin. She didn’t appear to register that this was real danger, not something out of one of those terrible fanfictions she was always reading. 

Dolokhov wrenched the door open, one hand on a gun that Foot hadn’t noticed he was carrying but wasn’t surprised by. He stood frozen for a minute. A rather sleazy-looking man with ugly colored hair was standing there. The judgement of his hair as ugly really meant something coming from Foot. Foot was convinced he was the ugliest person in the entire world most of the time (the other times he thought that maybe he was being unfair and there was a peasant on the other side of the world who had it worse, but usually he quickly dispelled that notion as too unrealistic). If he was calling someone else ugly, it meant it was really bad. 

“Ugh, that hair is a terrible color,” Incestia sniffed beside him. 

“I know, right?” Foot agreed. “Why would anyone want to kiss him?” 

A bit of fear crossed Incestia’s face. “Wait a minute, is this Bill Clinton? The guy who wants to kill us?” she whispered. 

“I think so,” Foot whispered back. 

“Long time no see, Billy,” Dolokhov said, leaning against the doorframe in a manner far too casual for someone who was currently pointing a gun at an ex-President’s head. 

“Put the gun down, Fyodor,” Allegedly Bill Clinton said calmly. 

“Let me think about that,” Dolokhov drawled. He glanced back. “What do you think, Hélène?” She said nothing, her lips a thin line. “Yeah, I agree.” He turned back to ABC (Allegedly Bill Clinton). “No,” he said pleasantly, smiling. 

ABC smiled just as genially. “There are Secret Service agents surrounding this house. Do you really think you’ll make it out if you shoot me?” 

“What’s a Secret Service?” Incestia asked. 

“I don’t know,” Foot said, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear himself. He very much didn’t want to draw ABC’s attention. 

“Probably not,” Dolokhov shrugged. “But I’ve outlived my time anyway. I should have died when I drank a whole bottle of vodka in one go in a window that one time.” His gaze unfocused. “Good times.” 

Foot caught his mother’s eye and raised his eyebrows. She mouthed back ‘I’ll explain later’. He hoped she would, because that would mean they were all still alive. 

“Besides,” Dolokhov added, “You’re trying to kill my kids. I can’t let you do that.” 

ABC’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you a deadbeat dad anyway? Why would you care? Also, I’m-” 

“Absolutely not!” Dolokhov interrupted. “I’m their favorite uncle! I just didn’t tell them I was their father because you would have come looking for them. Also, I really wanted a cool Darth Vader ‘I-am-your-father’ moment, which I did end up getting, so I can die happy.” 

“Hold on,” said ABC. “You think I’m trying to kill them? The kids?” 

“Yes?” Dolokhov said, frowning. “You said eradicate me and my entire family line, which I assumed included my kids.” 

“I was exaggerating!” ABC cried. 

“Well it didn’t sound like it at the time! You mean I’ve been worrying about my kids getting murdered for ten years for nothing?” 

“Yes,” ABC said gravely. “It’s not them I want dead. It’s you.” He posed dramatically after that statement, like he was expecting some villain music to play. 

Dolokhov just snorted. “Well, duh. I knew you wanted me dead, too.”

ABC looked a little crestfallen. Foot almost felt pity that his dramatic pronouncement had failed, but he was too busy feeling a strange mixture of relief and fear. On the one hand, he was safe. On the other hand, his favorite uncle (not that there was a lot of competition, given that his only other uncle was Ippolit, whom he’d only met once when he was two years old and didn’t remember at all) was still probably going to die. Secret Service agents considered and all, there was a very small chance he would get out of this in one piece. 

Dolokhov and ABC stood staring at each other for a few moments that would’ve been extremely awkward had they not been charged with the knowledge that one or both of them would die. Hélène skirted behind them and put her arms around her children. “Go upstairs,” she whispered, her voice as shaky as Foot had ever heard it. 

“No way,” Incestia whispered back, stamping her foot. “This is the most interesting thing to happen to me in a decade.” 

“You’re only a decade old,” Foot put in, annoyed. 

“I’m serious!” Hélène hissed. “This isn’t a game. Go upstairs.” 

Even Foot shook his head. “No. Sorry, Mother. I’ve got an idea.” 

Thankfully, Foot didn’t have to use his formulating idea (a very complicated one involving a human cannon, some truly impressive gymnastics, and [if it could be acquired in time] an opossum) because someone new showed up on the scene. He strode commandingly up the lawn, his trench coat flaring out behind him. ABC’s face crumpled when he turned to see him. Even Dolokhov looked stunned. It was……… BISHA CLINKINS!!!?1//11!!1/1/1?!?!/1?!!?1?1

“Bisha?” ABC whispered so quietly that Dolokhov, Hélène, and the kids could barely hear. “Bisha!” 

The man got close enough for Foot to make out some features, and he started. Bisha Clinkins looked eerily similar to his second favorite character, Catgirlstiel, from his favorite show, Unnatural. He’d barely registered it earlier, panicked as he was about the possibility of dying, but now it occurred to him that Bisha Clinkins was the name of the actor who played Catgirlstiel. 

Now that he knew he wasn’t going to die, he was getting kind of excited. He ran up next to Dolokhov. “Hey!” He yelled, “You look like Catgirlstiel!” 

Bisha gave him a surprised glance. “Hey, kiddo. I’m surprised you recognized me without the wings and cat ear headband, but yeah. I play Catgirlstiel.” 

“Omg,” said Foot. He actually said the letters O M G, which he remained embarrassed about for the rest of his life. “Can I get an autograph?” 

“Maybe after I save your dad’s life,” Bisha said indulgently. 

“Cool,” Foot whimpered, starstruck. Catgirlstiel was saving his uncledad’s life! Incestia had been right when she said this was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her. “Catgirlstiel is my second favorite character,” he rambled. “Ham is my favorite, but that’s just ‘cause I relate to being the imperfect son, y’know? And Bean is cool and all but I don’t like the way he talks about women so-“ 

Someone grabbed his hand from behind. It was Hélène, who drew him back into the room until he was standing next to Incestia again. “Maybe later,” she whispered. 

“Right.” He nodded. He had to compose himself. Incestia was sniggering at him. He glared at her. 

“Hold on,” ABC interrupted, jolting Foot back to reality. His uncledad’s life was still in danger. “You’re going to save him?” ABC was staring at Bisha so heartbrokenly that Foot almost felt bad for the Former President. Almost. 

“It’s for the best, Bill,” Bisha said softly, reaching out to caress the other man’s face. 

ABC slapped his hand away. “After all this time,” he said, shaking his head sadly, “you choose him?” 

Bisha’s face crumpled. “It was never about you or him. It was about right or wrong. You can’t kill him because he told the truth about - about us.” 

“But-” 

“I played an angel for fifteen years,” Bisha continued, his voice growing stronger. “And though I’ve done my fair share of wrong things, I can’t just stand by and let you kill an innocent man. Catgirlstiel would never approve of that.” 

“You aren’t Catgirlstiel,” ABC spat. “You’re Bisha. And you were mine, until he-” here he pointed aggressively at Dolokhov, who just raised his eyebrows and muttered something about anger management classes. “-ruined it. I loved you, Bisha.” 

“Y yo a ti, Billy,” Bisha said softly. “And I can’t let the man I love become a murderer. Come with me. We can make a new life together, away from the public eye. We can just be ourselves, free to love and be loved.” 

ABC hesitated. “But...I hate Dolokhov so much.” 

“I know,” Bisha said gently. “Me too.” 

“Wow, thanks,” Dolokhov muttered. 

“But your hatred for him can’t sustain you forever. Let love drive you, Bill. Come back to me.” 

ABC stood for several moments, irresolute. Foot heard Incestia hold her breath. Then ABC relaxed. “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, you’re right.” He looked Bisha in the eyes. “You saved me. I would have become something horrible, something beyond recognition, if it weren’t for you. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Tears were brimming in both men’s eyes. They drew closer and closer, until-

“EW are they about to kiss?!” yelled Incestia. 

“Not if I can help it,” said Dolokhov, who immediately shot them both in the head. They fell to the ground together, in each other’s arms even in death. 

“HEY! He was gonna give me an autograph!” Foot yelled. 

“Oops,” said Dolokhov. “Sorry about that.” 

“Um, Fedya?” Hélène asked warily. 

“Yeah?” 

“First of all, you just killed two people in front of our kids. Not cool.” 

“Sorry, babe, but it’s better than letting them see people kiss. They’re not old enough for that.” 

“Do not call me babe,” she growled. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” 

“Or sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you say, darling.” 

“Or darling! Stop coming up with pet names!” 

Dolokhov grinned. “Fine, honey. If you feel that strongly about it.” 

“I would punch you if I weren’t more worried about the Secret Service agents surrounding my house right now,” Hélène fumed. 

“In front of the kids? They shouldn’t see their parents fight like that.” 

“You just made them watch you shoot someone’s brains out!” 

Then the rest of her statement caught up with him. “Hold on. Secret Service agents? Aw-” Here he said a word Foot had never heard before that caused Hélène to smack him and yell about ‘in front of the kids’ again. He and Incestia just watched all this like a tennis match. He thought he actually felt his neck muscles loosen from looking back and forth between them. 

As if her words had summoned them, several snazzily dressed people in business suits showed up on the doorstep. Before either of them could say anything, the one in the lead opened her mouth. “Don’t worry about going to jail or anything,” she said. “We’re not actually Secret Service agents. We’re dark web assassins he hired. If he used the real Secret Service, everyone would have known the ex-President had real blood on his hands. This was a clandestine mission.” 

“Oh,” Dolokhov said. “So I’m off the hook?” 

“Pretty much,” she said, shrugging. “Just pay us a million rubles and we’ll go quietly.” She turned to her sidekick. “How much is a million rubles?” she whispered far too loudly. She had a distinct American accent, and Foot was willing to bet she had never seen a ruble in her life. Some assassin. 

“I think it’s a lot,” whispered back the sidekick, who sounded equally American. 

Dolokhov twisted around to look at Hélène. “Do we have a million rubles?” 

“We do not have anything,” she snapped. “I might, but I’m not giving them up for your life.” 

“You don’t think I’m worth a million rubles?” 

“You’re barely worth one.” 

“Aww, babe. Hate you too.” He very dramatically blew her a kiss before turning back to the assassins, who were still quietly discussing how much money a million rubles actually was. “I’ll cut you a deal,” he told them. “You can have three dollars I got from my American friend once, plus we’ll make you dinner and tell you some really fun stories. They’re all gonna have to be 10-year-old appropriate though.” 

The assassin barely thought about it for a second before she shrugged. “Sounds good to me. That’s three more dollars than I had earlier.” 

“Splendid,” said Dolokhov. “Would you guys help me take the bodies away first? I don’t want my kids staring at them.” Incestia stopped craning her neck to look. Foot was just glad all 15 seasons of Unnatural had finished filming so this wouldn’t affect Catgirlstiel’s character. Season 15 episode 18 was coming out tomorrow, and he had a hunch about Bean and Catgirlstiel’s relationship.  
“Yeah,” said the assassins. They cleared the bodies in no time while Hélène took the children upstairs. She left them there with strict warnings not to come down until she told them too, which they actually felt like obeying for once. 

“Hey,” Foot said. “Wanna watch Unnatural with me?” 

“Sure,” said Incestia. They sat down and watched all 15 seasons of Unnatural together, barely even blinking when Bisha Clinkins showed up again. The assassins came up partway through, and they ended up staying in Hélène’s house for a week to finish the show. By that time, they felt like such a part of the family no one really wanted them to leave. Foot felt that overall, this had been a good adventure. Dolokhov decided to stay and help raise his kids (although no one knew how long that would actually last or how much of it was motivated by the desire to make terrible dad jokes), and the kids learned a lot of new curse words as a result. It had been a dark day, but in the end, Foot felt he couldn’t have asked for anything more, except maybe an autograph from Bisha Clinkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope u enjoyed!! Comment who you think everyone's favorite unnatural character is uwu


End file.
